Before the Last Breath
by teacupdestiny
Summary: Katara and Zuko struggle to survive, thrive, and find each other after the world as they know it has ended. Zombie!Au, steambabies, and of course, Zutara.


**[a/n]:** Of course, the wonderful somuttersthesea beta'd and gave great feedback and support. Thanks!

Using the prompts from Zutara Smut Week 17, I decided write a fic without any of that. I'm just trying to get back into the swing of writing. If you like this, please like, comment, or reblog. Constructive Criticism is also welcome; it helps me become a better writer :)

* * *

The silence is eerie, but she's used to it now.

It used to scare her, the way a bustling, teeming city went as silent as death. At night, the wind whistling through empty streets used to keep her tossing and turning; she had to teach herself not to look out the windows after dark (the shuffling dead, wandering after dark could banish _any_ desire to _ever_ sleep).

But she's used to it now.

These days, Katara walks quickly, purposefully, and carefully. The streets are empty for now, but that doesn't mean they will remain so. Hours of careful watching has taught her to be wary of empty streets and the illusion of safety. She's watched empty streets fill with lumbering bodies in minutes, watched careless survivors die because they weren't careful enough.

Katara was careful. Her eyes swept the street, searching for any sign of the impending horde. Her apartment was just around the corner, but even safety within her grasp couldn't make her careless.

She drums her fingers nervously on one leg, clutching the spout of her water is a metal bat strapped to her back for emergency, one she hopes never to use. The baby wiggles a little and she pauses for a moment to catch her breath and rub her belly. "We're going to be just fine." she whispers, more for herself than her baby.

In a way, she's almost grateful to be pregnant. Being alone in this city of death would be enough to drive anyone crazy; having someone to protect has kept her going long after everything else has been halted by death. But the unfortunate reality is that her baby is weeks away, perhaps days (definitely days, judging by the pain shooting up her spine on a regular basis now), and it's taken a toll on her. Katara can barely waddle away from the undead and she hasn't been able to rely on her father since–

She swallows. She can't even think of the d-word yet.

Four weeks ago, her father had left on a quick afternoon supply run and never returned. Katara had waited faithfully, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep on waiting for the men in her life to reappear. Her father wasn't the first man who hadn't made it back to her. Three months ago, almost four now she thinks as the baby jabs her ribs, Zuko had promised over the phone that he would find her. She promised to wait for him. Since then, the phones had gone down, the internet had dried up, and the people who had evacuated had returned as the undead. For almost four months, she endured fear and terror and death, but had remained faithful to her promise and to her husband.

But Zuko had not come for her and now she was beginning to fear that he would never would. Like her father.

Katara stopped at the corner and peaked around it. Nothing in sight. It was a straight shot to her building. She made a run for it (really, she made a waddle for it).

Since the outbreak, Katara had been lucky. Her apartment building had mostly been filled with young couples and single workaholics. Anybody who hadn't already been on vacation or simply disappeared had evacuated at the first opportunity. Except Katara. She had waited. Her father had arrived after a few weeks and they'd waited together.

Now, she was alone again.

Zuko would never come. Her father would never come back. If she waited her too long, she'd end up like them–dead and devoured or dead and shambling.

Katara slips into her building, avoiding the lobby and going straight for the fire escape ladder she'd left down. She climbed carefully, mostly because there was a baby in the way and her balance just wasn't what it used to be. A silly macabre thought occurred to her. Even the neighbors who had evacuated had returned before her husband had. They'd come back as the undead, but that was besides the point. At this point, gallows humor was the only humor left. The entire world was dying, dead, or undead. Sometimes, Katara felt like there was already a noose around her neck; the only thing left to do was fall. If she didn't laugh about it, then she'd cry.

She climbed each level until she reached the third floor, fighting vertigo and nausea. She slipped into the apartment that had belonged to her next door neighbors. Ty Lee and Mai had been in Tokyo with Azula when everything fell apart; it was hard to look at familiar surroundings and wonder if, even now, her friends were mindless zombies. But it was even harder to walk into her own apartment and see Zuko's things still hanging in the closet, his pictures still hanging on the walls. It was painful to walk past the nursery, still half decorated and waiting for her husband's strong, callused hands to finish hanging shelves, finish painting, finish creating what should have been the first home for their child.

She knows that their baby will never sleep in that nursery. As soon as that baby comes screaming into the world, Katara is going to leave this city of the dead. Out there somewhere, she's going to find a place where Zuko's daughter can be raised in safety.

* * *

Trust is a complicated concept for Zuko.

He can trust the shamblers to always go for the throat, he can trust his fellow survivors to save themselves first, he can trust Sokka to always have his back, but trusting himself is hard.

Trusting himself means that he needs to believe that he can make it through each day. Trust means that he needs to believe he will find Katara alive and well, waiting with a daughter in her arms. Trust means he needs to believe that everything is going to turn out for the best.

Otherwise, he's going to end up like the poor idiot who blew his brains out this morning.

His name was Teo and after watching his father die, he'd given up completely.

Sometimes, it takes everything in Zuko not to do the same.

The entire world has turned upside-down overnight and he just wants an escape from this nightmare. He inhales deeply, which is a mistake; the room smells like copper-iron blood and shit. He gags and makes the second mistake of meeting Teo's glassy eyes. Zuko turns to flee, passing Sokka on his way out of of the little cabin where Teo ended his life. He leans over the porch railing and empties his stomach into the bushes.

When he's done, his brother-in-law is leaning against the wall. His face is dark and haggard, but he's not surprised. Neither of them are.

"We need to keep on moving," Sokka says eventually, "Day light is burning."

Zuko wipes his mouth on his sleeve. The smell is still stuck in mouth. Somehow it's worse than the smell of the shamblers. The stench of death is nasty to begin with, but at least the zombie smell isn't fresh. Usually. He shudders and thinks about the little girl he'd killed last night; the evening before she'd given him one of her last cookies and he'd helped her mother gather enough firewood to get them through the night. Her blood was still warm when it gushed out of her body and onto his hands.

"Zuko," Sokka says sternly, "Stay with me."

He shakes the memory away, turns to face his brother-in-law. "We should bury him." he says.

Sokka's lip curls and snarls, "I'm not wasting my time to bury somebody who offed himself."

It's not Teo that Sokka is angry with. He's remembering Yue, who chose to end her life instead of fighting to survive. He's remembering the way they found her, dressed in her pajamas, candles burning in the corners of her room, her hair soft and gleaming in the dying sunlight, an empty pill bottle sitting on her nightstand. Yue may have died peacefully, but it was Sokka who found her choking on her own vomit. It was Sokka who held her after the life had left her body, sobbing into her hair. But it was Zuko who made sure she wouldn't come back again.

Sokka hasn't been himself for a long time; these last few months have felt like years, but even that won't be long enough for him to truly accept Yue's decision and absence.

He searches for the right words to say. "His father would have wanted that."

Sokka scowls. They stand in silence for a long time. This bothers Zuko; he's used to the sounds that two dozen survivors make as they weather each day and difficulty. After the chaos of last night, most of their group is either dead or separated. And now, with Teo dead and cabin walls splattered with his blood and brains, it's just the two of them.

Finally, Zuko speaks, "I'll burn the cabin."

Sokka shrugs, "It will attract shamblers."

Zuko nods and replies that they'll be long gone by the time the fire really gets going. His brother-in-law nods. "Good," Sokka says, "We're too close to stop now."

In unison, they turn their heads toward the skyscrapers looming in the distance. Katara promised she would wait. Zuko swallows and prays that he will find her alive. The odds of a heavily pregnant woman surviving are slim, but his wife is a fighter and he trusts her more than anything. He won't find her laying a pool of her own vomit; his wife is the kind to go down swinging.

Zuko digs his wallet out of his pocket. He's been recording the days and this is how he knows Katara's due date was last week. If she's alive, there's a good chance she's already given birth. Even more reason for her to be alive, even more reason for him to trust that she has made it this far.

Zuko just has to keep fighting to stay alive; everything will be okay when he finds his wife.

He takes a deep breath, pats Sokka's shoulder, and then returns to the body of his friend.


End file.
